


Birthday Dinner

by glorious_spoon



Category: Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, Cooking, Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: Ward and Colleen cook Danny a birthday dinner, and try to avoid murdering each other in the process.
Relationships: Ward Meachum & Colleen Wing
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19
Collections: Flash In The Pan: A Food Flash Exchange





	Birthday Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> Flash In The Pan exchange, and the prompt 'Two characters who don't like each other grudgingly work together to cook a feast.'
> 
> For Sholio; I hope you enjoy! <3

Colleen plucked the spatula out of his hand, scattering oil droplets across the counter, and Ward skipped backward ungracefully before it could splatter on his clothes. Any more than it already had, he realized with a grimace a moment later. “Thanks a lot. Do you have any idea how much this shirt cost?”

“Should have worn an apron,” Colleen said unapologetically, and hip-checked him out of the way. _She_ was wearing an apron, some absurdly flowery thing that looked ridiculous but had, in retrospect, probably been a smart idea. At least she wasn’t covered in cooking grease, although her hair was beginning to frizz slightly in the heat. Danny, soft-headed romantic that he was, would probably find it adorable. To Ward, it gave her a manic and slightly terrifying demeanor, especially combined with the glare. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m _stirring_ wrong?”

“Yeah. You are.” She scraped briskly and with an air of annoying competence at the pan, then reached to turn the heat down. “It’s going to scorch if you don’t keep an eye on it, and then the whole dish will be ruined.”

“Well, excuse me.”

“Just—” Colleen waved him off. “Get the rice started. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Of course.” It was rice. How hard could it be? And at least it got him out of range of Colleen and any more hot oil she might fling his way. He glanced back toward the table, already arranged with candles and place settings. The birthday cake, which Ward had bought from a bakery like a sensible person, was in the fridge. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have just ordered catering. It’s not like he would know the difference.”

“ _I_ would know the difference.” Colleen stirred again, then added the chopped oranges to the pan. He hadn't actually asked what the dish was called, but it was starting to smell really good: rich, savory-sweet, and laden with unfamiliar spices. “Anyway, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I know you didn’t. And I’m starting to regret offering.” He finally located the bag of rice on the cluttered counter top. To his relief, there were instructions printed on the back. He read them carefully, ignoring the distinct suspicion that Colleen was laughing at him silently behind his back, then reached for a pot.

“Not that one.”

Ward braced his palms against the counter, closed his eyes, and counted to ten slowly before turning back toward Colleen. She was definitely laughing at him, her eyes gleaming with slightly malicious humor. It wasn’t really a hostile look, though, at least compared to some of the ones she’d directed his way. “Okay. Fine. Why not?”

“It’s not big enough. It’ll boil over.” She indicated another, larger pot on the hanging rack. “Use that one. The lids are in the cabinet underneath.”

“...Okay,” Ward said, and retrieved the correct pot and lid. He measured in rice and water and carried it over to the stove. Colleen moved aside to let him set it down on the one free burner, just as something in the pan she was stirring _popped_ , splattering fragrant orange tofu mixture all over the front of his shirt. It looked like he’d been hit with rotten fruit, or possibly a very large paintball.

Lips twitching, Colleen reached for the other flowered apron on the kitchen island and wordlessly held it out to him. Ward looked down at his ruined shirt, heaved a deep sigh, then took it and put it on. "Danny had better appreciate this."

"Oh, don't worry," Colleen said, managing to sound both mocking and completely sincere. "He will."


End file.
